


Every Day Is A New Beginning

by teenybirdy



Series: New Beginnings [3]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Andy Can't Resist, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Miranda, Wooing, romantic trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenybirdy/pseuds/teenybirdy
Summary: I think Miranda is wooing me. She has been since our first date, it just took me some time to realise. And, I have to admit, it is working.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs, Mirandy - Relationship
Series: New Beginnings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588360
Comments: 19
Kudos: 175
Collections: 32sk





	Every Day Is A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic goes out to all those that provided feedback, requesting yet another sequel of Every End Is A New Beginning and It's Not The End But A New Beginning. I suggest reading those two before this, although it may be OK as a standalone. Please feel free to me know what you think. T x

One of the defining moments between myself and Miranda was the first night I delivered the book. That was the night the twins tricked me into going upstairs, disturbing Miranda and Stephen's argument. Frankly, it was the first time I saw her human side as she pleaded with her husband for his understanding.

It was on the following day I found out, when I dropped off the impossible-to-get manuscript with the twins and Cara at Grand Central Station, it was only done to stop Stephen's shouting.

The twins were scared of their step-father, a fact I'm fairly certain Miranda has not yet realised, and it was with that in mind, that today when we walked Patricia through the park, I made promises to them, to always treat their mother with gentleness and respect.

The twins know I love them all but they are wary of my developing relationship with their mom.

How could they not be?

For the last year, I have been her assistant and although they are used to me being there for Miranda in a professional capacity, they are unsure if this thing between us will last the distance. They don't want to get used to me, only for me to leave.

I am not concerned. Since that day at my old apartment, things have changed drastically and beyond any doubt I know I will never leave them, I am unwilling to tear my own heart to shreds or hers.

At Miranda's express wish, I agree to start our relationship afresh, as if the last three months never happened and we are, for want of a better word, dating.

Dating Miranda Priestly is a revelation. She is quite old fashioned in some things and she is extraordinarily romantic. Miranda plans our dates methodically, unwilling to trust either Emily's with the task of organising them, and so far they have been perfect.

I feel butterflies when she knocks at the door of Emily's apartment or meets me outside the Mirror's office to pick me up for after-work drinks, an evening of being wined and dined at New York's best restaurants, or on one occasion, being seated in a box at the theatre watching a Broadway show I expressed an interest in seeing.

I know Miranda plans my outfits for our dates, having them delivered to me with flowers or a note containing poetry. She sometimes, after she's relaxed sufficiently, teasingly bemoans the fact she now spends hours composing text messages in her head, which take her focus from her work. I have kept every single text she has sent me.

I didn't think it was even possible to fall any deeper in love with her, but every day my heart is overwhelmed by the growing strength of my feelings, and stranger yet, I know she feels the same. It is exhilarating and, if I'm honest, a little scary.

It has been four weeks since the New Year began and so far, it has been the best year of my life.

I don't want this to end.

**~x~**

The one thing I did when Andrea agreed to stay was to take an inventory of myself. In a moment of self-reflection, I considered my feelings for Andrea and how my relationship with her makes me feel.

When I let myself think of the time after Paris, before this year began, I feel guilty for the way I treated Andrea and understand I have some serious grovelling to do to make things right.

I ask for us to start again and to my surprise, she agrees wholeheartedly. I make promises to myself that I will simply do what I can to ensure Andrea knows she is cherished. I will build trust and deepen our love further.

I find I delight in doing things for Andrea. I adore choosing beautiful clothing for her to wear, imagining how she will look draped in the Chanel, Versace, Stella McCartney, Alexander McQueen or Valentino designs I am shown. I put pen to paper and wax poetic about her beauty. I send large colourful bouquets to the Mirror for her to brighten her days.

It is like now I have her in my heart, I cannot get her out of my mind.

It is sometimes rather tempting to revert to Miranda Priestly, the Devil in Prada, however, I know that will no longer work and so I talk, more than I ever have to anyone I have entered a relationship with.

What I realise, while we drink wine during our first date at Bo Peep's in Midtown, sat amidst the antique lamps and velvet furniture as soft piano music plays, is that Andrea is the one person, other than my children, who encourages me to be myself. She accepts me entirely. What I love the most about spending this uninterrupted time with Andrea is that she simply listens, to whatever I have to say. It is so very refreshing.

I want this relationship to work, more than I have ever wanted anything, and because of this, I open up, and many of our first dates are spent talking about my need for monogamy and my deepest regret that I did not have more children. I explain to Andrea that I am not good at being in a relationship, even though all I've ever dreamed of is being in a committed relationship with someone who is my equal and who benefits my life.

Now, in finding that, I swear I will give as much love, time and energy as I can to making sure that our relationship is something that remains mutually fulfilling.

After every date, she kisses me as we cross the city together and it often feels as if she is breathing life into me. The world and everything in it falls away, except for her.

It is an exquisite way to end our evenings, and although I fight the compulsion to drag her to my bed and make love to her, I tell myself that we need to take our time before reconnecting intimately, but when the time is right I will lie her down and love her so thoroughly she will never leave.

I leave her each evening with a chaste kiss at the door to the apartment she is sharing with Emily and Serena, safe in the knowledge I will see her soon.

I have a plan, to woo my beautiful Andrea, to treat every day as a new beginning, a chance to be the woman my Andrea deserves.

**~x~**

Miranda is great and this first month of our new relationship has been like no other I have experienced. It is so different in every way to how I have been treated in past relationships.

I think Miranda is wooing me. She has been since our first date, it just took me some time to realise. And, I have to admit, it is working.

She seriously must have a guide or something because she's so damn good at it. I can just imagine her pouring over wooing 101 and smirking as ideas form in that brilliant mind of hers. I know a lot of men who could take a lesson from Miranda Priestly on how to make a woman feel special and she does it with so much ease, it makes me wonder how her past relationships failed.

When we see one another, Miranda is charming, attentive and chivalrous. She holds the door for me to the car, allowing me to slide in before her rather than trotting to the other side, she opens the door of the restaurants we are eating at and her hand rests on my back as she guides me ahead of her. Always, she does these things without a word and with a small smile playing on her lips.

I told my mom and dad about it. While my Mom remained silent, even though she was on the other line, Dad laughed and told me I had a real-life gentlewoman on my hands and to learn to appreciate it.

And I do appreciate it, honestly.

Miranda seems happy when we are together too. I know her, I know she can be bitchy, brooding, moody and cold, but I rarely see that side of her now. She lets her authentic self shine through, with no pretences. Her smile is small but genuine and I gravitate towards her further when she bestows it on me.

After I got the job at the Mirror and received my first paycheck, we celebrated with a date at an intimate Italian bistro on the Lower East Side. It isn't one of those overpriced, pretentious places you expect to see Miranda at and which we have dined at often over the weeks. The end of our meal saw us fighting over who would pay and I pleaded with her to let me. She raised her delicate eyebrow and signed the chit with ease. "You are my date and I want to treat you to dinner, let me."

How can I resist when she focuses those beautiful blue eyes on me, just willing for me to accept.

I don't want to fight with Miranda about money and I don't yet have the means to spend a small fortune on dinner or Broadway shows and Miranda seems to understand that. Plus, she has this way about paying for our evenings that do not hurt my pride, it's like spending time with me brings her that much happiness that no cost is too high. She makes me feel as if I deserve to be spoiled.

With Nate it was always about going dutch and splitting everything equally, I think if I offered that, Miranda would fall into a dead faint or purse her lips in displeasure.

I don't plan to find out.

So, when I can, I treat my silver-haired Goddess to coffee or take the twins out for a day of ice skating or bowling or we go to lunch at the diner a block away from the townhouse and eat cheeseburgers and fries and drink thick shakes. Miranda trusts me to keep her babies safe, even if I do fill them full of junk food, and I guard them with my life.

Another thing that surprises me is that I get 100% of Miranda's attention when we are alone together. She keeps her cell on, just in case Caroline and Cassidy need her but the one she uses for Runway is always turned off rather than checking her phone throughout our dates. I suppose it is her way, without actually expressing it vocally, of saying she's more interested in us than her work and it makes me feel amazing.

All in all the wooing of Andy Sachs is going well. I want her more than anything, yet except for our too brief make-out sessions, she holds me at arm's length, as if she will scare me away if things move too fast.

And seriously, as if that could happen. I am no longer scared of Miranda Priestly, editor in chief of the world's premier fashion magazine, instead, I am in awe that she believes I am worthy of her.

**~x~**

I am introduced to Andrea's so-called friends by accident a week before Valentine's Day. There we are, enjoying a peaceful evening and having a few drinks to unwind after a hectic week where we have been unable to see one another when two people greet her as if they cannot believe their eyes. The clear disbelief at finding us cuddled close together in a booth as we chat quietly about our weekend plans is surprising.

Have they not seen Page Six?

The press response has been surprisingly supportive. They claim I am glowing as I am seen in various places with Andrea. In many of the photos I am smiling and on one occasion the press snapped me with my head thrown back as I laughed at one of her silly stories. This is not something the New York press has seen much often over the years, and they are stunned by the change in the Snow Queen.

Andrea has been labelled the dragon tamer, Runway's Angel and various other sobriquets. Luckily she laughs about it and it has not impacted her life too adversely after it was reported I did not provide a recommendation but had Nigel do so on Runway's behalf. Andrea claims her peers are curious about the junior reporter who is brave enough to date the Devil in Prada. Her work speaks for itself too, although she has yet to break a major story, those she writes are quite engaging.

The young man, Douglas, is pleasant enough as he holds out a limp hand and introduces himself to me before brushing a light kiss on Andreas's cheek. I hear him whisper how much he has missed her and she returns the sentiment with one of her bright smiles. The woman, Lillian, simply glares at us.

I admit I overheard mutterings about these people after Paris, and I must say I let it cloud my judgement. They were her friends yet they abandoned her to side with that cook she was living with. They hurt the beautiful woman with their lack of understanding and disappearance from her life. Blessedly, Andrea has a forgiving nature and seemingly forgives them for their transgressions as she has forgiven mine.

If that wasn't so, we would not be navigating this relationship. She would be in Ohio and my life would be lacking.

Looking at the two young people I wonder what they add to her life and decide to find out and when I invite them to sit, I can tell Andrea is surprised but her large smile is breathtaking. Douglas plonks himself down next to Andrea and cuddles into her while Lillian sits, almost reluctantly, opposite us. She says nothing as the boy babbles about anything and everything under the sun and her eyes rest on where my hand is entwined with Andrea's as it rests on the table.

I love holding Andrea's hand, her long fingers wrap around my small hands easily and it allows me to feel connected to her even as we do not speak.

"So Nate was right?" The words cut through Douglas's voice coldly and I stiffen as his babbling ends abruptly.

What does this girl mean?

"No." Andrea is emphatic. She untangled our hand and picks up her vodka and soda and sips it before placing the glass down. "I was not cheating on Nate."

I feel myself bristling. I am quite aware I have my faults and I initially treated Andrea deplorably, but I would not inflict that pain on anyone. I know what it is like to be cheated on.

"I can assure you I was still very much married when Andréa and that boy ended things." I hiss leaning forward. "He left her before Paris did he not?" Lillian gulps and has the grace to blush as she nods her head in the affirmative. "And he emptied the apartment they shared while she was away?" Another brief nod. "Then you have no right to query such things." I feel my temper flaring and inhale sharply to calm myself. "He left her without a bed, leaving her to sleep on an uncomfortable couch. She had no stereo or television and the kitchen had been cleared out almost entirely." I grind my teeth together. "He left her with no choice but to break her lease as she struggled to make rent, but more than that, he claimed the deposit she paid so she could not make a down payment on another apartment and she is now staying with other friends." She sighed. "Frankly, I do not care for your insinuation that my relationship with Andréa was anything but professional before my ex began divorce proceedings." I glare at the young woman and watch as sweat forms on her temples. "And if you cannot be happy that Andréa is cared for, then you are not deserving of her friendship nor her forgiveness. That's all." I stand, unable to stay in a situation where Andrea is being questioned in such a manner.

What right does this bloody woman think she has?

I turn my back on the young woman and face Andrea. "Wait." Her words are uttered so softly I barely hear them over the sound of the Friday night revellers. I extend my hand, she takes it and stands.

Turning, she brushes a kiss against Douglas's cheek and grabs her purse. "I'll call you, Dougie." She ignores Lillian entirely.

As we walk from the bar hand-in-hand, I hear Douglas shouting at Lillian that he can't believe she knew of Nate's treatment towards Andrea. As we step outside, I stop and turn her to face me. Andrea is a little teary-eyed and I want to know why.

She reads the question in my eyes and squares her shoulders. "You called that night Nate ended things. Just before I answered he said the calls I take was the relationship I was in. He was right." I stand there, stunned into immobility as she steps away from me and waves her hand to hail a cab. "You coming?"

I shake myself from the sudden stupor "Yes, darling." I respond, stepping towards her as the yellow cab screeches to a halt beside us. I glare at it balefully.

"You gave Roy the night off, remember? Andrea teases lightheartedly. I roll my eyes and slip into the waiting vehicle. She slides in after me and gives my address but not her own even though it is on our way. I catch her eyes. "Can I stay?" Her question is asked breathlessly as if expecting my refusal.

I try to hide my smile, and no doubt fail. "Acceptable, but no funny business Ms Sachs."

Her small giggle is like music to my ears.

**~x~**

I meet Miranda's mom by accident when she arrives at the townhouse unannounced, having travelled from London upon the news of our relationship breaking internationally.

I am stood in Miranda's arms wearing nothing but her grey cashmere robe and we are kissing. It is the morning after the first night I have stayed over, an innocent night where we lay together cuddling and kissing in our underwear before sleep claimed us.

I am disappointed to wake alone, yet I know Miranda is a prolific early riser. She says she does her best work in those early morning hours as the dawn breaks.

When I enter the kitchen wearing her robe, Miranda's small smile is a sight to behold as she gazes at me from her position at the kitchen island. Stalking quickly on bare feet I lean in to wish her good morning and she takes my hands and pulls me in for a hug, burying her face into my neck.

I feel so loved when I'm in Miranda's arms. When she looks up at me I see she is staring at my lips and leaned down to brush my lips in a chaste kiss against hers. I continue to kiss her gently on the lips as her hands move up to hold my face between her cool palms and returns my kisses. It the most wonderful kiss ever and my arms wrap around her waist when she touches the tip of my tongue with hers. I whimper breathlessly.

I am not able to stop myself from kissing Miranda every chance I get. From that day in my old apartment, kissing her has just gotten better and better.

I kiss Miranda again. It is slow and soft, a pace I know she enjoys and she kisses me back with increasing passion, her hands moving from my face to my waist and around to my back. Needing air, we eventually break apart and rest forehead to forehead as we gaze into each other's eyes.

The way she looks at me, with so much intensity and desire makes me hot under the collar. I can't get enough of this woman and I want more. I want her to take all of me and make me hers, and yet I sense her wariness and fear. This is why I try not to push her for more than she is willing to give.

Suddenly, her lips are on mine again and a quiet moan escapes from her throat as I pull her closer to me and my hand slides to the back of her neck. My tongue finds hers and I am alive in a way that I have not been aware of before her.

The front door opening is not heard and although I am certain I hear footsteps, believe it is just my imagination at play. With Miranda lips on mine, everything else is no longer important as I experience the usual sensory overload from being in her arms with her lips on mine.

I am still in Miranda's arms when I feel a new presence sweeping through the room and a low whistle between teeth has me pulling away quickly.

Miranda doesn't let me go far, keeping me in the circle of her arms, her hands resting on my ass. She smirks over my shoulder at the new presence in the room. "Hello, mum. What an unexpected pleasure." Her voice holds a hint of sarcasm and I can't stop my grin at the familiar sound of it.

Abigail Priestly is a law unto herself and pulls me away from Miranda to sweep me up into her arms and plant large kisses on my cheeks. She speaks so fast I can barely comprehend what she is saying. "So you are the woman that caught my daughter, how delightfully surprising. And wearing her robe too." She tsks.

Her accent is like nothing I imagined. Not quite Cockney, yet not quite as refined as her daughter's. I turn my head and raise an eyebrow at Miranda who simply stands back as her mom speaks.

Miranda doesn't seem to want to hide me away, there are no emphatic statements about us just being friends. She squares her shoulders and waits for her mom to focus her attention on her.

I am nervous. I know from conversations that Miranda grew up poor. After her dad died when she was seven, they muddled together until Abigail fell in love and got married. Over the years, she had three other children with her new husband. The man was rather wealthy and accepted Miranda as his own, even going as far as adopting her and giving her his name. She had been distraught when he passed away.

I hope Abigail finds something in me to like. I know Miranda respects her, and part of why she works so hard is to make her mom proud. As a single mom, she never wanted to struggle as her own had done. It has made her self-reliant.

I feel a little stressed over being found in a bathrobe. Somehow it doesn't seem respectable. Will I be judged and found lacking?

"And I bet you could get away with murder by fluttering those long eyelashes." Abigail states.

I realise I've zoned out and missed half of what she's had to say.

"Um...I should get dressed. Excuse me." I offer Miranda a fleeting look as I rush from the room, and spot her smile broadening as Abigail finally turns her attention onto her.

"My Lord, Miri, you do know how to choose them." I hear Abigail say.

Miranda laughs joyfully.

**~x~**

My mother leaves, with kisses for both of us and whispered words to my Andrea to have patience with me. She knows I am not an easy woman to contend with, but she also knows I am capable of loving with my whole battered heart.

The first night spent together leads to more nights wrapped around one another and I continue to let myself notice the little things about her. It is not something I consciously thought to do while she was in my employ and most certainly not something I considered doing with either of my husbands.

I certainly notice she's wearing new clothes. Most of what she wore at Runway was returned to the closet, leaving her with very few options. The clothes aren't designer, but she wears them well. From the weekends spent together, I learn she prefers casual clothes. Jeans, t-shirts, plaid shirts and hooded sweaters are paired with boots or Converse Hi-Tops. The only time she dresses to impress is for our dates and she wears the clothes and shoes I provide, with confidence.

I tell her how beautiful I find her and watch as she blushes.

My work requires me to pay attention to people's wardrobe, but it is Andrea's that has me fascinated, especially when she is wearing tight fit jeans that cling to her ass. I start to wonder if I should have more focus on casualwear in Runway. The couture I display in the pages are beautiful, but it is not something that everyone can wear. We could appeal to the masses even more, by making fashion more accessible.

I start to notice her little quirks, habits, likes and dislikes. I learn how she takes her coffee, usually with a shot of something sweet, like caramel. I surprise her by having one ready when she wakes up. I now know that cucumber gives her indigestion, so I have it removed from her salad when we eat lunch at a nearby deli and she bestows one of her brightest smiles upon me.

I adore the way her smile widens, creating adorable little dimples in her cheeks.

I find myself watching her when she doesn't realise. While she is talking to her editor, pacing and gesturing with her free hand. I don't hear her words as I stare at her intently, finding her every movement and the cadence of her voice stimulating.

I adore how she expresses herself.

Her angry words catch my attention and I focus on them. "Fuck you, Greg. You're a piece of shit."

When her cell phone hits the wall, I jump slightly but I see the tears in her eyes and the growing devastation and open my arms out to her. I am not surprised when she throws herself into them, settling on my lap and burrowing her face into the crook of my neck.

When she eventually calms, I raise her head and search her eyes. "Will you tell me what's happened?"

'He's letting me go, effective from today. Greg's claiming my reference isn't valid as I did not work directly under Nigel and with the press..." Andrea takes a shuddering breath. "...well, they are trying to say the press interest in us makes me a liability."

**~x~**

Miranda launches into action when I lose my job at the Mirror, but not before she lets me fall apart and offers me the comfort I need.

She rallies the troops and Nigel, Emily and Serena arrive within a few hours carrying takeout, wine and beer. We sit around the dining room table with the twins, drinking and eating as my dismissal is discussed heatedly. No one can believe this has happened.

Caroline sits on one side of me, quietly cuddled into my side, while Cassidy sits at the other and loudly announces her plans for open warfare on any journalist or photographer that crosses her path.

Looking down at her, I see the same determination in her eyes her mother has, and I do not doubt it for a minute. I ruffle her hair and she stares up at me and offers me a reassuring smile. "We take care of our own, Andy."

A plan of action is put into place but I am numb to it all, and barely hear the details as I wallow in my self-pity.

What I do hear is Miranda on the phone in her office after we've bid everyone goodnight. I am stunned by what I overhear.

"It is that man who is a liability. I have heard he let her go so he can give her position to one of his friend's son's, a boy fresh out of college." There is a pause as she listens. "Well, of course, I did not provide a recommendation. It would have been ridiculous to do so, given our new relationship." Miranda chuckles. "So you wish to know what I would have said? Okay, of all the assistants I've ever had, Andréa Sachs is, by far, my biggest disappointment. And, if you don't hire her, you are an idiot."

I try to sneak away, but trip over my own feet in my hurry and land on my knees. I scramble back to my feet as Miranda steps across the room quickly and leads me towards the waiting loveseat, pushing me down into the soft cushions.

She sits beside me and continues to speak. "Did you know she won a national competition for college journalists with a series on a janitor's union. I took the time to read it and found it extraordinarily well written and insightful." She hums as she listens and pulls me down so my head rests against her thigh and her fingers scratch through my hair idly. "Yes, well, if what I have heard is true, I will advise Andréa to take the matter further. I will have my legal team look into her contracts and, if she wishes, will have them start the claim process for wrongful termination based on discrimination over her sexual orientation. And your comments regarding her refusal to do her job and write about her private life will certainly make her case stronger. That's all." She disconnects the call and leans forward to place her cell on the coffee table.

I didn't realise Miranda would be the soft place I can fall and the new knowledge stuns me. I continue to lie there while her fingers move through my hair, soothing me.

We stay, in silence, just basking in the growing trust and understanding. I feel the events of the day deeply and think back on the weeks that had passed since leaving Runway at the start of the year

I initially laughed off Greg Hill's comments when news of my relationship with Miranda broke. Eventually, it sank in and I told him, in no uncertain terms, that my personal life did not impact my professional life and that I wasn't looking to gain anything from it. After that, he kept his distance. I didn't even think to mention it to Miranda but now this.

I don't know what my future will hold, I feel like all my dreams have been ripped from underneath me but Miranda soothes my concerns away as she speaks of having me write for Runway or looking into me writing for other Elias Clarke publications.

My cell chimes and I ease myself up and stalk across the room to pick it up from where it fell after I threw if from me. The screen is cracked and I glance between the cracks and see the email notification from the Mirror. Pulling it up, I squint through at the screen.

"What is it, darling?" Miranda asks.

"It's the H.R team at the Mirror, my position has been reinstated, but I am suspended with full pay, pending further investigation into my references," I explain softly. I turn to face her, biting my lip. There's one thing I need to know. "Am I your greatest disappointment?"

"Professionally, yes," Miranda admits. "I hated losing you as my assistant. I have found I miss your presence in my outer office and that is vastly disappointing to me. Then there are the times we have both been busy and are unable to see one another and part of me wishes you were there in your old place and it was only after you left, I realised how much you did to minimise the incompetence of others."

I had no idea about any of this. I didn't realise what an impact not working with Miranda would have on her. I was just an assistant and didn't feel as if I was of any importance.

"We could go back to how it was before if you wanted..." Miranda glares at me and I bite back my words.

"I prefer the relationship we have now, Andréa. Although I may lament over your departure, I am happier with this situation." Miranda waves her hand between us airily. "Now, are you ready for bed?" She asks.

"I'm not tired. I may head on home." I respond softly expecting to feel her displeasure. Instead, she stands and picks her cell up. Offering me a sad smile she calls me a cab and waits in the foyer with me until it arrives.

Just as I am leaving, she grips my wrist in her palm. "Keep Friday free."

I remember that Friday is Valentine's day and nod my agreement. "Will I see you before?" I ask hesitantly.

"If you wish, I will clear whatever is on my schedule when you call." Miranda's eyes hold sadness. It's as if she doesn't believe I will call. "Think seriously about what has happened and the effect being with me is having on your life, Andréa. I don't want you coming to regret me...this..." She steps into my personal space and her warm hand comes up to rest against my face before she leans in and offers me a chaste kiss. "Goodnight."

**~x~**

I am concerned when I hear Emily and Serena discussing the fact they had heard Andrea crying during the night but tell myself if she needs to cry alone in her room at Emily's for a day or so, I will give her that time.

"She thinks Miranda's going to end things." Emily attempts to whisper after Nigel greets her loudly.

Surely Emily knows how much her voice carries?

I text Andrea and tell her I can be there when she is ready to see me, just hoping she takes it for the gesture it is meant as. If she runs to me in tears needing to talk, I will simply sit down with her and listen. I will be there for her when she needs me. I will be that someone who cushions her fall when life disappoints her.

I don't let Emily, Serena and Nigel see I have overheard their words, but that doesn't mean I can forget them. I can't believe Andrea thinks I would end this thing between us.

She is my...

I want to be...

I realise our weekend had ended quite abruptly, thanks to Greg Hill, and there may have been the possibility that my words regarding her decision about our relationship could be construed as a dismissal but I was simply furious with the way my Andrea has been treated and it scared me to think she may eventually decide it was all my fault.

I need to fix this, although I'm sure Andrea would tell me it is unnecessary. But with it in mind, I have Emily make calls so I can tell certain people in our industry what has happened. Word will get out and everyone will learn not to mess with my family.

The word has me sitting back.

I heard Cassidy advising her we take care of our own and I must say I agree wholeheartedly. She is one of us now. Andrea is my family. Over the past months, she has become my best friend, the person I know may actually be my soulmate. I appreciate her for many reasons. For the fact she no longer fears me, that she does not sugarcoat the truth when it needs to be spoken, just to tell me what I want to hear. Andrea makes me want to be better, she challenges me and pushes me out of my comfort zone in the most profound ways. She is my favourite person, alongside my precious babies, in the whole world.

I love her and I want her to be happy, even if that is not with me.

No, not without me. That is unacceptable.

I try to settle in my work, but struggle to concentrate with Andrea in my mind. "Get me Donatella, and tell Nigel I expect him in my office in fifteen minutes."

"I have Donatella." Emily's voice calls from the outer offices.

I greet my old friend in Italian, and she is surprised but responds accordingly in her native tongue. I ask a favour, explaining why it is important to me and she laughs at me. "Piantala!"

How dare she disbelieve my words.

"Eccome! Lei è il sole dei miei giorni." I state softly.

Nigel appears, hovering in the door as Donatella advises me she help me achieve my end goal. I am grateful and tell her so. Just before I disconnect, she tells me she wants a favour in return. I wait to see what promise she will extract from me this time and find myself pleasantly surprised when she tells me she simply wants to design my Andrea a dress and to see her wearing it at a dinner on a night of her choosing. I readily agree to her whim and smile as I disconnect.

I beckon Nigel in and he steps towards my desk hesitantly. I glance up at him and see the beads of sweat forming on his brow as my presence affects him. This is not unusual, but I am going to do something now I never thought I would. I am going to make amends for the events in Paris, and apologise if necessary.

I watch as he wipes his forehead with his handkerchief and then thrust a file towards him. He sits down opposite, affecting an air of nonchalance while his fingers smooth out the sharp crease in the black-check Burberry trousers he wears. I wait and am rewarded when he picks up the file and starts to read, his eyes widen in surprise.

"A pay increase." Nigel is incredulous.

It is not as much as I was prepared to give, but with Irving's meddling, I was unable to. Instead, I matched the salary that would have been provided at James Holt International, but there was a bonus for his long-standing tenure coming too. That alone was quite a significant amount and came from my pocket. The slight increase in his salary was approved by the board upon advising we would lose his talent if we were not proactive. "There will be an increase in your responsibilities," I advise softly.

"Where do I sign?" Nigel asks.

"The pages hold the amendments to your role. I advise you to take the time to read them. Sign on the last page and send it down to Human Resources." I sip my Pellegrino and am shocked when Nigel leans forward to grab one of my pens and scrawl his signature on the final page.

"I told Andy you'd pay me back." Nigel grins at me happily. "I wasn't sure but I had hope."

"It is partly for Andréa I am doing this, partly for myself too," I admit. "I should advise you that the additional responsibilities will start immediately."

"How?" His question is to be expected.

"From Thursday evening through to Monday, the book shall be delivered to you to go over. I will expect you to stand, in my stead, to ensure this issue goes to print without any disruptions and that the next issue continues as planned. I expect you to keep everyone's incompetence to a minimum." I state.

"And where will you be while this is happening?" Nigel's green eyes shine with curiosity.

"Bermuda." I smile across at him.

**~x~**

I do not see Miranda for four days but finally realise feeling sorry for myself isn't going to change things, I pull myself from my bed, shower, make an effort to dress casually but fashionably and head the short distance to Elias Clarke. Miranda must know I am grateful for the time she has given me. I need her to know that I do not blame her for the way my editor is behaving.

The fact is, I have been thinking about what I want to do with my life. I always thought journalism was my life's calling, but the last couple of months has shown me that all I want to do is write. I want to be free to write what I want and not be reliant on the demands of others to tell me what to write. With that in mind, I have my resignation for the Mirror stashed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

I have my earbuds in as I walk and as Kelly Clarkson's Breakway plays in my ears, I can't help but smile. The lyrics crash through me and I finally understand them. It makes me want to sing them from the top of my voice, and since this is New York, I am sure no one would bat an eyelash. I chuckle and hum along instead.

Things have changed so much over the last few years. I moved from my birth city to try to make it in New York City, I worked for one of the hardest people in the publishing world, a woman I learned to admire and by some miracle, we somehow fell in love with each other. I am stronger and more resolute to grab what I want with both hands. And I know that includes a life with Miranda and the twins.

I have missed Miranda over the last few days. We have traded one or two texts before bed and I made the effort to speak to Caroline and Cassidy and reassure them they would see me soon. When the call ended, I told them I loved them and to hug their mom extra tightly for me. Cassidy agreed quickly while Caroline's breath caught and I heard her fervent whisper of agreement.

I enter Elias Clarke, having stopped for coffee and the guy on the security desk just gapes as I produce the pass I never bothered to surrender when I left and swipe at the turnstiles. I am surprised I am allowed but step through easily and move towards the elevators. I enter with a bunch of clackers that barely tolerated me when I worked at Runway. They do not speak to me but gaze curiously, making me self-conscious.

On the seventh floor, Sherri from H.R steps into the area beside me. "It's good to see you, Andy." She glances up at me. There's a job at Runway or a copy editor position at Auto Universe should you want it." She grins and I snort out a laugh.

She joins me in the unexpected laughter and I feel relief. "I might have to take you up on that," I admit after a few minutes. "I've learned there are far worse places to work."

Sherri nods. "It's ridiculous what's happened at the Mirror." She mutters and I feel my eyes widening in surprise. "They emailed us for references. You know you've been missed, right? The revolving doors are in full swing and I am not hopeful the newest Emily will last." The elevator continues to move up steadily, stopping at various floors as people come and go. Sherri continues to ask me questions about what Miranda needs in an assistant and I hope she uses the information I provide. Just before the doors open to Runway, she stops me. "I hope you have an enjoyable long weekend away, Andy." I frown. Honestly, I have no idea what she is talking about. Turning back to glance at her, she must see my confusion and bites her lip nervously before offering me a smile. "Go on." She urges as the doors open.

"Hey, Sherri, about that job at Auto Universe?" I query hesitantly as the clackers stream around me.

"Wednesday, at 9 am." Sherri grins. "It's just a formality, but I'll see you then."

I step towards the outer offices and see Miranda's door is wide open. She is not alone though and I spot Nigel, Serena, Emily and the rest of the department heads. I glance at the newest second assistant, a bored-looking blonde who is filing ner nails. I shake my head in disbelief. No wonder Sherri is concerned. I sit myself down in the seat I took when I first entered Runway over a year ago.

The blonde eventually looks across at me, then at her screen. "I don't think you're Miranda's eleven o'clock."

I smile. "No, I don't think I am. I just need a quick word, then I'll be out of your hair."

"She's not to be disturbed." The blonde hisses. "Especially not by the likes of you." The young woman's voice holds a clear note of disdain, no doubt due to me being dressed in jeans and converse. She clearly hasn't noticed my leather jacket is Saint Laurent.

I hear Miranda's voice rise from its usual whisper. "Out."

Nigel and the gang trudge out dejectedly but upon spotting me, there are happy exclamations. Nigel pulls me to my feet, passing the tray of coffee to Emily, and hugs me tightly to him while Jocelyn and Lucia talk over one another, filling me in all I have missed since leaving. I glance at the blonde and see her horror as Emily whispers my name and smirks. I know Miranda has made it clear that my calls are to be answered and for her to be notified. I didn't call though, I just rocked up unexpectedly.

I sense Miranda's presence and look towards the door of her office. She's stood, with her arms folded, leaning against the door frame, simply waiting for the deluge of voices to die down to get my attention. I smile at her and am astonished to see her blush. She gestures for me with a flick of her head and moves from her position, her hips swaying as she moves towards the large sitting area. I make my goodbye's and promises to go out for the next Runway drinks before grabbing the tray of coffee from Emily's desk and following the woman.

"Close the door, Andréa." Miranda's voice is deceptively soft and sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

"Yes, Miranda." I tease as I close the door, but not before I notice Emily's small smirk and the blonde girl's wide-eyed incredulity.

**~x~**

I cancel my day needing to keep Andrea close now she has made a reappearance out into the world and with that in mind I send a range of text messages to Serena and Nigel to help me do so.

It is our first Valentine's Day as a couple tomorrow and I want it to be special, which is why I have booked an impromptu romantic weekend away in Bermuda.

Bermuda is not somewhere I have been before and I gave serious consideration to the Bahama's and even the Virgin Islands but the location is close enough that our time away will be maximised without interfering with work schedules too drastically, although frankly, it is about time I loosened my hold on the reins of Runway.

My magazine has one or two rather talented people to oversee things when I am unable. My Bobbsey's will now be with their father for the Midwinter Recess, so a small break is rather straightforward. In fact, the twins assisted me in finding the perfect location for this celebration.

The very thought of three full days and four nights with Andrea has had my anticipation levels rising. I want to be able to show her the depth of my feelings, of the lengths I am willing to go to to have uninterrupted time with her and renting the private Oswego Island, is one of the ways of doing so. Donatella's jet is on standby, ready to leave as soon as I am. All I need is Nigel to advise the bags I have requested for Andrea are packed and Serena to arrive with her passport.

A text message lights up my screen and I read it quickly and smile at the woman sipping coffee next to me. "Are you ready, my darling?" I ask.

She nods and stands, dropping her empty coffee cup into the waste paper bin next to my desk and clasps my hand as I extend it towards her. I know Nigel has Roy waiting for us, and after a brief stop at the outer office for Andrea to assist me with my coat, I am ready to leave for four days of bliss with the darling woman.

Roy opens my door for me and I allow Andrea to slide into the backseat before me. I wait until she is in her usual position before settling at her side. The privacy partition is not yet in place but I know Roy will put it up before we go much further.

"Roy, can we stop at the Mirror before heading uptown?" Andrea's question is hesitant. Roy nods and he car moves through the traffic easily. She looks towards me and pulls an envelope out of her pocket. "It's my resignation. After much contemplation, I decided I can't continue working for that man."

Relief washes through me before I grow concerned. "What will you do?" I ask.

"I have a job interview on Wednesday, at Vogue." Andrea fails to hide her smile and I realise I am being teased.

"Anna was always insistent she would snap you up." I return the teasing. Although Anna had truly said as much in Paris.

Andrea turns serious. "Sherri told me about a job at Auto Universe for a copy editor. It will pay the bills and allow me to focus on writing what I want."

I exhale a deep breath. Auto Universe is not what I wanted for my Andrea. I remember from our first meeting that she had grand plans to be a journalist, with dreams of writing for the New Yorker but I realise it is a dream that evolved as she struggled into her new life at that two-bit newspaper. But copy editing is nowhere near what she wants to do. I know she wants to write, not correct those that have less talent in their entire body then she holds in her little finger.

The car pulls up outside the Mirror and I watch as Andrea glances up at the small brick fronted building as if steeling herself. "If you are unsure, it can wait." I take the letter from her and she lets me.

"I feel like I am just rolling over and giving up. I could be a damn good journalist given the chance but as soon as news of our relationship broke on Page Six, it felt like I wasn't taken seriously and no matter what I did, I wasn't given the chance to prove myself." Andrea swallows and glances at me and I know she is nervous about my reaction after all this is not something we have discussed. "What should I do, Miranda?"

"If you want to write, then you should do so," I advise. "If Auto Universe will give you the time to do so, then take it. I will offer my full support in whatever you do.

"Well, the choice was Auto Universe or Runway." Andrea grins and I find myself chuckling. "I think you should keep hold of that letter for now."

I place it in my purse before pressing the intercom. "Go." My voice holds all the impatience I feel.

**~x~**

Miranda leading me to a large private jet is a surprise I did not expect when I set out from the apartment this afternoon and all my coaxing is not providing answers and I still have no idea where we are going. We are plied with refreshments once we settle into the large comfortable seats and take off from Teterboro.

I am not a massive fan of flying, as Miranda found out in Paris, but she keeps me entertained with stories about her week and has me laughing so hard I snort wine through my nose. She tells me of some of the impossible tasks she's set for the new Emily, which include having her take Patricia to the kennel for the long weekend and having her explain to the large dog why she wasn't able to stay at home alone. When the young woman returned to the office that morning, bearing a lukewarm coffee, Miranda demanded to know how Patricia had responded to her and struggled to hide her amusement as the young woman gaped open-mouthed at her.

The flight is quick, it feels like no sooner were we in the air then the pilot is asking us to prepare for landing. "Please fasten your seat-belts, make sure your seat is in an upright position and your table is stowed. This may be a bumpy ride!"

Fastening our seat belts once more, I let my eyes close and breathed evenly to tamper my anxiety. Miranda takes my hand and squeezes it as the plane banks and my eyes open as I look out of the window to the island below.

I don't think I'll ever forget the moment as I sit and watch the unbelievable sight of the narrow runway strip coming into view. "Wow!" I breathe.

Miranda leans across me, her hair tickling my cheek, and takes in the blanket of turquoise blue water all around the runway. She sighs happily.

The narrow runway is barely visible and I grow concerned that we will miss the waiting tarmac entirely and land right in the ocean. When the wheels hit the runway, I am relieved. I find the prolonged contact with Miranda, as her hand rests in mine, rather relaxing too and my anxiety dims, more so when the plane slows and finally comes to a standstill.

We wait for the hustle and bustle of the cabin staff to die down and for the doors to open before we stand and step from the plane onto the tarmac where staff are waiting to ferry us away.

"Miranda, where are we?" I ask once again.

Miranda smiled softly, her pearly teeth flashing. "All will be revealed, my darling."

**~x~**

I see Andrea's disbelief when she spots a sign and realises we are in Bermuda just short two hours from leaving New York. Luckily we get through immigration easily as US citizens and head out of the arrivals. A card holding my name is held up by a casually dressed man and I lead Andrea directly to him and introduce myself and Andrea.

"Oh, we had a tropical storm called Andrea sweep through here last year." I am offered a wide smile and a wink. 'I'm Geoffrey." I now realise the man is none other than the owner of the Private Island I have rented.

He retrieves our bags before leading us outside. I know should the need arise I can hire a small 2 seater electric car, I read something about some kind of mini Hummer or there's the option to hire one of those infernal mopeds. We could reenact those iconic images from Bermuda's glory days in the 1960s.

We step onto a small dock and are handed into the 40ft water taxi that is waiting to take us on a one hour tour of the area before dropping us off at Oswego Island.

It is slightly warmer in Bermuda in comparison with New York. The winter months have been bitterly cold, and rather than the average low 40s that we have seen recently we may see mid to high 60s. It will be glorious.

Geoffrey spends most of the journey talking to Andrea about the things we may be able to do, from exploring Bermuda's caves and lush landscape to spending time on the beach and soaking up the sun. There is a boat we can take out if we felt like navigating the waters. It is all I can do to bite my tongue to stop myself telling the man that I plan to spend a very naked four days with the woman I love. Nevermind all these mentions of cliff jumping, scuba diving or any other such nonsense.

Andrea's smile hasn't diminished since we alighted from the plane and boarded this vessel, which is named the Honey Badger Express. As I sip complimentary water, I allow my eyes to close and relax as Andrea and Geoffrey start to talk about food options. I have had the Island fully stocked but we may eat out. The Harlem based chef Marcus Samuelsson owns and runs a restaurant here and I hear his buttermilk-fried chicken and fish chowder croquette bites are simply divine.

I have not planned a thing except the Island and amenities included. This is not New York and I have the freedom act on my whims rather than being in control of every moment. If I want steak, I shall have it. If I spend all of tomorrow swaying in a hammock surrounded by Andrea's warmth, I shall be content.

My eyes open and I am greeted with Andrea's dazzling smile. My breath catches and I am newly amazed by the fact she has given me this chance to be better, to work at this thing between us. I inch closer and entwine our hand before bringing it up to kiss the back of it.

The breeze is brisk on the water and my hair is fluttering about wildly causing Andrea's eyes to twinkle. I smile up at her and release my hand to brush the forelock away.

I let my head fall against her shoulder and sigh once more as she wraps her arm around me and draws me closer and we watch the island coming into view. I hear Andrea's soft gasp as we dock and she takes in the steps leading up between trees to the main house which is barely visible from the dock.

"Welcome to Oswego Island, my darling." I smile softly. "Come, I can't wait to show you the house."

**~x~**

I can hardly believe that Miranda has rented a private island for us, I mean, seriously.

The place is beautiful though and as we move through the lush fauna to enter the house I watch the palm trees dancing in the wind.

The house itself is stunning and luxurious, with high-beamed ceilings, a large folding glass wall, retractable folding doors and a lightwell that allows natural sunlight to flow throughout. As much as I adore the house, it is the 3 acres of this island I am interested in. I want to find out what it holds, especially after Geoffrey explained there are well-lit garden paths that stretch across the island itself.

I think of how it is going to feel to wake up to hear the waves hitting the shoreline and the fact I will be waking up with Miranda curled beside me is a bonus.

I just wish...

There's no point in wishful thinking will be a reason Miranda hasn't initiated further intimacy other than kisses that inflame me more than they should. Miranda's explained she wants to build trust, and I understand that. I do, but...

I just wish...

We grab our bags and make out way through the upper house taking in the modern kitchen with the included wet bar until we reach the central staircase leading down to the lower levels where the three bedrooms are situated.

We enter a large room, a games room by the look of the ping pong table, but it could easily be another living room. It has a set of patio doors leading directly out into the garden. At either side of the room is the bedrooms. I move to the right and realise I am in one of the smaller guest rooms and hear Miranda calling me to join her in what I now know is the master suite, which when I step through the doors, I see also offers access to the garden through patio doors.

"Are you planning for us to sleep in separate rooms?" Miranda smirks at me from where she's stood beside the large bed, unpacking her bags.

"Uhm...no?" It comes out as a question despite me wanting it to be a firm answer.

"Andréa, if you need space, I will gladly give you that," Miranda advises gently. "I do not wish for you to be left feeling uncomfortable."

"I'm not, it's just...I just..." I start to stutter and grow frustrated. "...I find it hard to be beside you and not to touch you." I blurt.

I seriously want to slap myself and start to feel the heat of a blush rising up my neck. I know it is only a matter of time before my whole face is aflame with the sign of my embarrassment. Tears sting my eyes.

Miranda, however, let's out a tinkling laugh and continues to put her clothes away.

I open my bags and dump everything on the floor before grabbing the toiletry bag I have been provided. Turning to the ensuite bathroom, I am ready to hide away for a time. At least until Miranda has stopped laughing at me. As I reach the door and make to turn the handle, Miranda's warm hand lands on mine and I look up to gaze into her eyes. "I too find it difficult to keep you at arm's length, my darling. Never doubt that." She stands on her tiptoes and pulls me in for a kiss.

It is like our first kiss all over again, the fingers on one hand tangle into my hair while the other cups my face. She draws the pad of her thumb across my eyebrow.

I never want this kiss to end. I want it to lead to more as she pulls back slightly and her warm breath makes my lips tingle. She takes my breath away.

Taking the toiletry bag out of my hand, she tosses it onto the floor and kisses me again, this time her hands are on my ass pulling me closer against her until her leg slips effortlessly between my thighs.

My breath catches as my desire rises and as if sensing it, Miranda walks backwards until she reaches the side of the bed and spins us so I fall upon the firm mattress. I am lying partially on top of Miranda's clothes and yet she doesn't seem to care as she hovers over me, her lips and hands demanding more from me as she touches and caresses me in a way she hasn't before.

She has never touched me like this.

I feel like I have travelled through a desert, without water, to reach this moment. The moment where my thirst is finally slaked. I am not lost in the moment. In Miranda's arms, I am found.

I am reborn.

I am simply Miranda's Andrea and all that came before is no longer important.

**~x~**

It is twelve glorious hours since I wrapped myself around Andrea's waist and drove my tongue inside her until she let out an earth-shattering scream, that I am certain they heard over on Smith's Island. Hearing that moan was like music to my ears.

I can and will continue to bring her pleasure.

I love how uninhibited I am with her, the way I growl, whimper and moan in sympathy as her hands twist into my hair and she tugs me closer and holding me in place, rocks against my mouth, her voice pleading with me to make her come. I relish the way she shatters, shuddering against my mouth, her legs trembling next to my ears until I take one last sweet taste of her and finally look up into her eyes. I see the tears and move up, kissing them away easily and reassuring her.

This is not a dream. This is our new reality.

We settle side by side and I map her skin with my hands and tongue, trailing both down to her belly, her thighs, turning her onto her front and focusing on her ass. I love her, without words. I taste every delicious inch of her. I worship her in a way befitting her, as my Queen.

I can and will continue to love her always.

The hours aren't just used for Andrea's pleasure, she ensures she reciprocates fully, even after I explain it is unnecessary and that giving her multiple orgasms has left me quite satisfied.

No, that is not good enough for my darling, Andrea. Her tongue finds me like it did on the last occasion we were intimate, but this time she has me lying on my side as it delves into my dripping centre. But then something else happens, something so unexpected that in normal circumstances I would be embarrassed.

She spanks my ass.

Just once.

A hard ringing slap from her warm palm on my bare, pliant skin.

But that is all it takes to tip me over the edge, calling for her loudly, telling her I am going to come before I gush all over her beautiful face.

It is the strongest orgasm I have ever experienced.

But I am mistaken if I think Andrea is done with me. The impossible woman's whisper is low and urgent as she mutters hotly in my ear that she wants us to come together. I feel my desire rising again, I simply can't get enough.

Andrea sits up and beckons me to settle opposite her against the headboard. I do so willingly and my legs are spread apart. Andrea pushes herself into me and our thighs interlock. This is such an intimate way of being together and makes me breathless. We slowly gyrate, picking up speed until we are thrusting harder and harder in a near-perfect rhythm, moans tearing from the back of our throats.

Andrea makes me more vocal than I have ever been and I love the way her name trips off my tongue.

"Miranda." The way she calls for me, her voice raw and intense has me pulling her closer and creating more friction where our bodies touch. I feel her desire coating me and I am sure she feels the same. "I'm coming." I thrust harder against Andrea and I am shaking uncontrollably when she explodes against me, soaking my skin as she screams my name into the night.

My heart is racing as I struggle to get air, but with an uncontrollable moan, I stiffen and climax, letting myself fall against Andrea who is there to catch me. My lungs burn as I try to fill them with enough air. "I love you." The words are a garbled mess, but I say them, wanting her to know just how true it is. We still move against each other as we catch our breath.

When we finally stop, I laugh triumphantly and we fall together in a heap of tangled, sweaty limbs, holding each other tightly on the sweat-dampened bed.

I have no plans to move from this bed.

Ever.

Of that I am certain.

**fin**


End file.
